


storms and a single scar

by JRMax



Series: Aeducan/Loghain Drabbles [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I haven't pinned down a timeline, I just wanted to write a cute domestic scene, Pre-Relationship, fear of thunder, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29521254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRMax/pseuds/JRMax
Summary: "You have a scar," Loghain observed.Firav grinned. "Which one?"or: Firav Aeducan can't sleep, so she tells a story and cuddles with the man who once tried to kill her.
Relationships: Female Aeducan/Loghain Mac Tir
Series: Aeducan/Loghain Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198103
Kudos: 5





	storms and a single scar

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older fic belonging to my very precious Aeducan/Loghain couple, which is an underrated ship and I love them very much.
> 
> I might post more of them while I'm getting over my posting fears who knows

Whatever she thought, Loghain did not blame Firav for her fear of storms.

She’d been embarrassed before when it revealed itself one night, how she cowered at the great rumblings of thunder and bright flashes of lightning. She looked at him as it went on, red in the face, and muttered something along the lines of being able to face scores of darkspawn but not, in her own words, “fucking weather”.

Anora had that fear, too, back when she was a child. Crawled into bed with him and his wife whenever they raged, and begged to stay with them until it was over. It was loud, strange to her young mind. He supposed it was no different for the Warden, as new to the surface world as she was. It didn’t help either that her first experience with the phenomenon was at Ostagar, where rain fell with great boulders of fire. 

Still -- and maybe it was foolish of him -- he couldn’t stand her pacing. “Come here, Warden.”

He shifted in his bed and made room for the dwarf. She had her own bed there on the opposite wall, but she clearly had no intention of using it. Firav eyed him warily as she came to a halt, jolting as another  _ boom  _ shook the walls. He raised his brow, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “I was told by your elf that company helps to settle you. Unless you would like to go to someone more palatable?”

He wouldn’t blame her for leaving. He did, however, blame himself when she actually took him up on his offer. She hesitated, of course, but another sudden flash made her feet move toward him. He shifted further, rolling onto his side as she sat beside him. 

“Fucking thunder…” she muttered. Loghain grumbled a wordless agreement, closing his eyes for a moment, the idea of sleep suddenly very, very appealing. 

He heard shuffling. His eyes opened again to the sight of Firav taking off her outer tunic. There was a thinner shirt underneath, white and nearly transparent, and it rose as she pulled the tunic over her head. There, in the sea of pale skin, he saw it. 

“You have a scar,” Loghain observed, his words muffled by his pillow. 

She glanced over her shoulder, amused, her garment stuck at her biceps. “Which one?”

He hadn’t the mind to try and explain just where it sat. Or to think, apparently, since he was thoughtlessly reaching a finger out. She tensed when he touched it, but to her credit didn’t move, allowing him to follow the path of the diagonal slash set into her lower back. 

“Proving,” Firav explained as the finger retreated. She tossed her tunic away, tugged the undergarment down as he tucked his hand securely under his pillow. Just in case. She started to slip under the covers as she continued, “I had just turned twenty, I believe. There were...rumors, put simply, that I was not Endrin’s daughter.”

_ That  _ caught Loghain’s attention, but the look on her face was enough to keep his mouth shut. “It happened every few years or so, but most had the common decency to keep them in their own circles. My cousin, Orel, however, thought it’d be smart to confront me, calling me the ‘whore daughter’ of Lord Harrowmont, and that I had no right to possess the royal Aeducan name.”

Loghain knew enough of her culture to understand what that meant. “So you challenged him.”

“I did,” Firav confirmed. Another crack of thunder, but the story was distracting her. “Met him on the Proving grounds. It was...rough, for a time. I had never met my own family in battle before then, not for anything more than training. He managed to land a few good blows.” She smiled, grim. “I landed more.” 

“I can imagine. I’m surprised he even had the gall to accuse you directly.”

“He was hoping to get closer to the throne.” She shrugged, and her eyes met his, blue on blue. “Seems I have a history of backstabbers behind me.”

_ That  _ stung. But only for a moment, because suddenly she’d moved to lay her head on his chest, strong hands bunching into his shirt. Loghain blinked at her, then carefully -  _ very  _ carefully - untucked his traitorous hand and laid it against her back. “Some better than others, I hope.”

Firav hummed, nosing into his chest as she shut her eyes, making herself very cozy indeed. “Better pillows, at least.”

Despite himself, Loghain smiled. 


End file.
